


Redemption

by thekeyholder



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Introspection, M/M, fluffwald, nicewald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8109766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/pseuds/thekeyholder
Summary: Jim can't stop thinking about what Oswald told him at Arkham. Maybe he has a chance to atone himself towards  nice!Oswald.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nekomata58919](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekomata58919/gifts).



> Thank you to Nekomata for the prompt, as well as for betaing the story! :)

Through the years, Jim had become increasingly better at suppressing painful memories, images, and the emotions associated with them. No more tears, lumps in the throat or uncontrollable rage when he thought about his father’s death, the unfairness he experienced in the military or the way Gotham scrubbed away any goodness that flourished in it.

 

That was why Jim couldn’t understand why Oswald’s words were still reverberating in his head, surfacing at the most inconvenient of times. And those eyes… gosh, those eyes with their colour of frozen lakes, begging Jim to acknowledge his pain, to believe in him, to _save_ him. In that moment, Jim couldn’t have done anything; they were in the middle of Arkham’s courtyard, and no doubt, people were eavesdropping. He left, pretending not to care.

 

It was a show for the others, but most importantly, for himself. He had to convince himself that Oswald was just lying, trying to manipulate Jim, in order to escape confinement. Torture? No, no, that was impossible. He got what he deserved. Even though the circles under his eyes, the shaking of his hands and the quiver of his voice attested to the truth of those words.

 

Jim cradled his buzzing head in his hands while he waited for his order. The waitress soon handed him a paper bag containing burgers and fries. He thanked her, and was out in the next second, eager to get to his flat, eat up and go to bed. He’d probably have to squeeze in a drink somewhere.

 

While waiting for the lift in his building, Jim picked up on some strange sounds coming from a dark corner. At first, he thought it was a black dog snivelling, but the miserable form seemed too big for that. Probably a homeless person. The lift pinged, and Jim was about to get into it, but he couldn’t **-** his conscience wouldn’t let him. He walked to the dark corner and crouched, watching the rise and fall of a person’s back. They didn’t seem to notice him, so Jim put his hand gently on a shoulder.

 

 

“Hey, are you alright?”

 

The silent cries stopped, and the person turned around. Jim went pale.

 

 

“Oswald?”

 

 

“Jim? I-I’m so sorry, I know I shouldn’t have come here,” Oswald quickly wiped his eyes. “I just didn’t know what to do, and I stopped here to rest my leg.”

 

Noticing Jim’s wide eyes, Oswald misinterpreted it, and rummaged through the inner pocket of his big coat. In fact, Jim was just trying to take in the image of Oswald’s deplorable state: ill-fitting clothes, which were covered with fluffy feathers, for some strange reason. However, it was something about Oswald’s face that seemed so uncharacteristic and out of place. Oswald’s eyes lit up when he finally found a crinkled piece of paper.

 

 

“See? Here’s a paper attesting that I am cured! I didn’t just run off.”

 

 

“Yeah… I’ve heard about it.”

 

Oswald folded the paper with a smile. When Jim saw that he wanted to stand up, he gave Oswald a hand and pulled him up. Even through the thick coat, he could feel how frail Oswald had become.

 

 

“Thanks. I’ll uh, I’ll get going. Maybe I can find a dry place for the night.”

 

Jim watched Oswald limp to the door, those damned words and accusing eyes crossing his mind again.

 

_You have to help me._

_They’re torturing me!_

_I lied for you, Jim Gordon!_

 

It was cold and raining outside, the kind that got inside your bones, and soon it would get dark. No one deserved to spend the night outside in such atrocious weather, and Jim had some atonement to do.

 

 

“Oswald, wait.”

 

He turned around slowly, hope etched in every move and line of his face. Jim realised that he hadn’t seen Oswald look so openly and earnestly at him in a very long time. It was probably a mistake, but something told Jim that he needed to look into it.

 

 

“The weather’s terrible. You can’t stay out there. Come.”

 

Jim opened the lift door, and Oswald stepped inside smiling.

 

 

“Thank you, James. You’re a good man.”

 

A grunt was all Jim produced, despite the emptiness he felt in his chest. Oswald was changed **,** and he needed to find out why. He had a bad feeling that Doctor Strange was, indeed, involved.

 

He unlocked the door to his flat, and Oswald stepped in shyly. Jim cringed at the mess that greeted them. He went to the kitchen to leave the food there. When he came back, Oswald was still at the door, as if he was afraid he’d mess up something. Jim had never seen him so helpless.

 

 

“Don’t you want to take off your coat?”

 

 

“I do, but I don’t want to shed all these feathers on your floor. That wouldn’t be proper.”

 

 

“Let’s go to the bathroom then.”

 

Oswald took off his hat and coat, trying to take off the fluffs one by one with a serene smile. Jim was watching with furrowed eyebrows. The Oswald he knew would be seething with rage, and the person who did this to him would probably be lying in a puddle of blood.

 

 

“Who did this to you?”

 

 

“Butch and Tabitha. But I understand, they wanted to teach me a lesson. They are right, of course, I did terrible things in the past.”

 

Oswald looked as if he genuinely would be sick, and his face became even paler. His hands trembled as he reached for the next feather. Jim was confused **;** was this an act or Oswald had really been cured? He had to think about a way to find out, but then Oswald’s stomach made a loud noise.

 

 

“Oh, sorry about that.”

 

 

“I guess it’s time for dinner.”

 

Jim made to leave, but noticed that Oswald was still standing at the sink, trying to clean his coat. He didn’t know what to do; he seemed lost like a child on his first visit at a stern aunt. Jim went back, pried out the coat from Oswald’s fingers, and looked into his eyes. He was met with that sparkle that Oswald had in the old days, the one of affection, but also an innocence and vulnerability that Jim had never seen before. This was no act. Instinctively, Jim reached out and smoothed Oswald’s hair back out of his eyes.

 

 

“Let’s go and eat. I’m starving.”

 

Oswald followed Jim quietly to the kitchen, and accepted the burger with a blush. Jim contemplated the rare sight over his own burger, wondering if he’d suddenly been teleported to an alternate universe. Was this what the world would be like if Oswald weren’t a criminal? Sometimes Jim thought about whether he and Oswald would be friends if Oswald… well, weren’t involved in illegal business. Could they be friends? Would they hang out, have dinner together and watch silly TV shows? Was the price of their friendship Oswald’s mental well-being?

 

After they finished their burgers, Jim pushed the rest of the French fries closer to Oswald while he got up for a beer. Oswald refused his offer, so Jim drank alone, while watching the storm rage outside. He was glad he didn’t let Oswald go out in that weather, he would have loathed himself even more.

 

 

“Thank you again, Jim. For everything.”

 

Jim just nodded, even though he knew he didn’t deserve the praise.

 

 

“I know I was horrible to you as well. I never meant to get you into trouble.”

 

 

“Okay, Oswald.”

 

 

“No, Jim, it’s not okay. You-you killed Galavan because of me. I lead you down the wrong path.”

 

 

“Stop. Just stop. You didn’t lead me anywhere. I would have done it anyway. Galavan was a worm, and he had it coming.”

 

Oswald shook his head, desperately trying not to cry. “No, no.”

 

Jim rubbed his eyes tiredly. He couldn’t face the conflicting feelings whirling inside him.

 

 

“Oswald…”

 

He got no response.

 

 

“Oswald.”

           

 

“Yes?”

 

 

“Do you remember when we met at Arkham?”

 

Oswald nodded.

 

 

“What you told me there… it’s true, right?”

 

 

“Does it matter? I’m cured,” Oswald whispered.

 

Jim scoffed. “Of course, it matters. It matters to me.”

 

Oswald looked at Jim sharply, then turned away.

 

 

“I know it’s too late now. I should have listened to you.”

 

After some painfully silent moments, Oswald got up and limped to the window. Jim could see that he was shaken, even though Oswald turned his back to him.

 

 

“It was horrible. They… they made me watch over and over again how Mother d-died… by my hands.”

 

Jim closed his eyes, memorising this as the moment he accepted his doom, and took Oswald in his arms. Oswald was so surprised by the gesture that his sobs stopped for a moment, then he buried his face in Jim’s chest and let his tears fall. Alarmed, Jim held him even more tightly. He didn’t know how long they stood there – he counted the raindrops hitting the window at first, but then gave up. It didn’t matter, Oswald had to get rid of his pain. After a while he calmed down, and looked up at Jim bashfully.

 

 

“Alright?”

 

Oswald nodded. “Thank you. Again,” he added quietly.

 

 

“Let’s make your bed.”

 

Oswald refused to move, though, his arms tightly snaked around Jim. The detective looked in his eyes, and deciding that he had already been doomed anyway, leaned in and kissed Oswald. Just a small, short kiss, but enough to leave Oswald breathless. After that, he followed Jim wordlessly to the living room, and helped Jim make the sofa a little more comfortable. They wished each other good night, and Jim sighed as he entered the bedroom, plopping down on his bed unceremoniously.

 

He thought about what Oswald told him, and he made a mental note to call Harvey the next day. As uncomfortable as it was, they had to make another trip to Arkham, and grill Doctor Strange some more. Who knew what kind of things they were doing there… Jim wasn’t sure what would happen to Oswald. If he were to testify against Strange, he could get some kind of protection. He knew that if he kept beating his brains any longer, he wouldn’t sleep that night.

 

Not much later, as Jim floated somewhere between consciousness and dreamland, he sensed the bed dip on his left side. He grunted, but didn’t mind the lithe body cuddling up to him. He brought Oswald closer to his chest, and Oswald held him tightly, as if he understood Jim’s sins and absolved him of them.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at butterfliesandresistance.tumblr.com


End file.
